


One Fine Day

by stuckinastory



Series: Drinking and Eating Their Way To Love [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, LJ to AO3, Old Fic, mentions of Nigel and Emily, written back in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinastory/pseuds/stuckinastory
Summary: Drunk!Miranda meets Sober!Andy.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: Drinking and Eating Their Way To Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672732
Comments: 3
Kudos: 112





	One Fine Day

“Good morning, Miranda.”

Miranda Priestly opened her eyes slowly and realized, right then and there, that she was in someone else’s bedroom. Her head was hurting, and she felt like shit, but she had to know what just happened, and she wouldn’t have to ask that question if she _did_ know, but the truth was, all she had on her was the fact that she was really drunk last night. And that what she knew was a product of an educated and highly accurate guess. The voice sounded a little too familiar—Nigel didn’t have a cheery, optimistic voice that could very well have appeared on an animated Disney film—but without the help of coffee, all would be lost.

She then focused on the ceiling—eggshell white, tasteful enough—and reached for her glasses blindly. Once she put them on, though, there was no mistaking the lithe, dark-haired, and robed figure looking at her from the door frame. She nearly gasped.

_Andrea Sachs_.

She then wanted to slap her forehead for not recognizing the voice sooner.

The young woman then walked over to her with a glass of water and two Tylenols. She drank everything and was mildly surprised at how nonchalant Andrea was. It was a little unsettling. A few minutes passed before Andrea was in her view again, and at this point, she was now sitting upright on the bed, trying to remember what happened the night before. “What happened?” Miranda asked, feeling lost for the first time in quite a long time. And unsure. And nervous. And maybe just a little excited.

“Well, you were drunk, you came here, and you bequeathed _Runway_ to me as a birthday present,” Andy replied, noticing the glare from Miranda, but then she decided to get serious. “Well, how about you tell me what you remember? Maybe I can help with the rest of the story.”

Andrea said those words, and like a light switch turned on, she started to remember what happened the night before. At one memory, she was in her townhouse, squeezing wisdom from the bottom of the Jack Daniel’s-filled (or at least it once was, and most likely more than once) glass, confused, agitated, distracted, and pissed off because of the fact that she was still fantasizing about Andrea Sachs, eight months after her latest Paris Fashion Week trip. The next memory put her in her private car, driven by Roy, the phrase ‘out of my misery’ rang in her head. The last memory that she remembered so far was her a few centimeters away from Andrea, definitely within kissing range. What happened in between? Why was she here?

“Coffee?” Andy offered, as she watched her ex-boss’s face contort in trying to remember what happened the night before. She wanted to kiss the wrinkles forming on Miranda’s forehead, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “It’s Maxwell House. It’s not Starbucks, but it’s good.”

What Andrea didn’t know was that Miranda’s first ever cup of coffee, drank at six in the morning on a Saturday when her parents weren’t awake yet, _was_ Maxwell House.

“Yes, thank you.”

She watched from the bedroom as Andrea poured two mugs of coffee and headed back to her. Andy watched the editor drink her coffee, and only after the woman raised an eyebrow did she start drinking hers. A few minutes passed by between them, before Andy decided to talk.

“Do you remember coming here last night?”

“Perhaps.” Miranda waited for a beat before adding, “I remember being in the car.”

“Okay,” Andy said, nodding. “That’s good. Roy got you here last night. I forgot the time, but it was definitely past ten. And Roy told me you wanted to see me immediately.”

“I remember that,” Miranda said, growing impatient with the delays. Why not get it over with? Andrea was really going backward today. “I’m only suffering a hangover, Andrea.”

Andy rolled her eyes. “Oh, and what else?” She mumbled, trying to match Miranda’s snideness. Really, whoever had the idea of allowing this woman to be drunk as a skunk?

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Andy mumbled. “Sorry.”

Andy awkwardly sipped her coffee as Miranda eyed her suspiciously. There really was no point in wasting time waiting here with Andrea to find out what happened the night before. Then Miranda widened her eyes a little. What if she told Andrea something that she wasn’t meant to hear? Something along the lines of Nigel flirting with Keanu Reeves during a photoshoot, her own fetish for plaids and a midnight serving of macaroni and cheese, or Irv’s Viagra purchases credited to the _Runway_ account. Miranda inwardly gasped at the possibilities. She did have one hell of a hangover, and she didn’t remember much. That was the problem. 

Oh dear.

_What if she told Andrea that she loved her?_

Andy watched as Miranda set another cool glare at her. It still had the same effect eight months later. It scared her, excited her, sometimes amused her, and steeled her for whatever would come. “Do we hem and haw or do we get this over with and you tell me what happened?”

Andy inwardly screamed. The woman could not be serious. Couldn’t she even try to observe her surroundings for a while? Couldn’t she notice how much Andy was trying to keep things light and not awkward? Did she expect Andy to react like she saw her boss in her apartment everyday—even if she wanted to? Trust Miranda to feel at home everywhere. “It’s like this,” Andy said, nervous at Miranda’s potential reaction. “Last night, when you came here, you were drunk, and we, um…”

Oh, hell no. Now she couldn’t talk like a decent person? “We what?” Miranda demanded. “Andrea, you of all people should know that I don’t much care for babbling. And if your speaking skills continue to be this deplorable, then any explanation coming from you would be completely suspicious,” Miranda fixed her glasses and added, “And totally unreliable.” _  
_

_Oh_. Now you have the gall to insult me? Andy’s eyebrows met in irritation and frustration. Miranda was always _herself_ , no matter what the situation. It was both a comfort and a source of great frustration, especially when you expect people to react, um, differently.

“That was not what you were saying when you were moaning into my mouth last night.” Andy said defiantly, giving Miranda a cold, pointed stare and crossing her arms.

Andy watched as Miranda’s eyes narrowed and widened, and then narrowed back again, all within the span of two seconds. Within those two seconds, she would have given anything to take what she just said back. She reminded herself to bang her head in a wall when Miranda left.

That is, if Miranda left her _alive_.

“Shit.” Andy squeaked, as Miranda’s eyes bore into her. “Miranda, I didn’t mean to…”

“What?” Miranda asked, her eyes interested and livid at the same time.

Okay. Andy took a deep breath, and then another. There was a chance to explain it all without sounding like a jerk. There was a chance to tell the truth nicely.

“I didn’t mean to shock you, Miranda, but we slept together last night.”

Miranda looked absolutely horrified, which nearly angered Andy, but something about how horrified she looked made Andy want to laugh out loud instead. It was a fully shown emotion, and it stayed there for more than two seconds that Andy was scared that Miranda wouldn’t be able to move on from the information she just gave her about last night’s events.

Finally, Miranda said, “I considered it, but I didn’t think that…” She was barely composed, and this fascinated Andy even more. Wow. To be able to throw Miranda Priestly in for a loop. Nigel would be so damn proud of her. “I was very drunk,” Miranda relented, and at that point, she suddenly had a vision of pulling Andrea’s head to hers and kissing her red lips.

“Yes, you were.”

“Was it that bad?” Miranda asked, and Andy wanted to laugh, but she settled for a sheepish grin, also because of the fact that she suddenly remembered Miranda pushing her down the bed, slurring and kissing and licking. No, not bad at all. Quite the contrary, in fact.

“No, no. Not at all. You were, um, just a bit out of control. You told me you loved me and you wanted to marry me.” Andy reported, as though reading from an official statement.

As Andy was saying all of this, Miranda had a vision of forcing her tongue into Andrea’s mouth, and suddenly regretted professing her greatest secret while drunk.

“Do you?” Andy asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

“Andrea, I…” _I love you. Why else would I be here?_ “I don’t know.” Miranda cursed herself for feeling so vulnerable and confused. She couldn’t even say ‘I love you’. Damn it.

“It’s okay,” Andy said, trying to sound nonchalant. She tried to keep her eyes from brimming tears—hell, she was an adult—and was a little successful. Miranda noticed the tears trying to escape from her eyes, saw how crestfallen Andy was trying not to be, and wanted to kiss off her sadness, right there. Reassure her. “It’s fine. Do you, uh, do you want anything?”

Miranda kissed Andrea’s forehead, and felt a tug in her heart when the brunette closed her eyes in response to the kiss, as though she was trying to commit the scene to memory. When Andrea opened her eyes, Miranda saw the walls build up, almost brick by brick. 

"Andrea?"

The brunette was already turning away. 

Miranda smiled. "Let me make it up to you." She then reached forward. 

Minutes passed after Miranda broke off from the kiss. Andy looked outside. The sun was still very high up. Miranda was still naked under those sheets. She bit back the urge to smirk, but in her head, she was like a kid running through a hill full of flowers and butterflies and a rainbow, thankful that it was a Saturday. Miranda ran her fingers lightly through Andy’s cheek, and the two of them shared a shy smile. Andy collected the two mugs lying on the bedside table.

“I’ll go get a refill.” She stated plainly, as Miranda nodded wordlessly.

Miranda watched the young brunette skillfully work on the coffeemaker and listened to her hum as she poured their second round of coffee. She was so beautiful, her former assistant. She watched as Andrea poured coffee into both cups, and popped what looked like croissants into an oven toaster—a tiny, inconspicuous, maybe old, oven toaster—and came back minutes later with a tray, with knives and plates and croissants and coffee and butter. Breakfast in bed.

Andy hoped that her little breakfast in bed spectacle wouldn’t be deemed too plebeian. She really didn’t know what she had in there, and she was lucky enough to be serving Miranda breakfast. She saw Miranda smile, though, and just knew that regardless of whether the woman ate it or not, it was already a hit.

“I don’t regret it,” Miranda said simply. “I do regret not being able to remember most of it.”

Andy beamed and handed her the other mug.

“Stop smiling, Andrea. There is no Santa Claus.” Miranda admonished, her actions betraying her words as she reached for the mug with a hint of a smile.

“There is something better,” Andy said, breaking out into a full grin. She waited a beat before finally asking, “So, where do we go from here?”

“As of this moment, we are—how do you call it—oh, yes, we are exclusively dating.”

“Of course.”

The two of them ate in silence for a while, Andy occasionally puncturing the silence with questions and comments about _Runway_ , Emily, Nigel, Miranda’s week, and the twins. Finally, Miranda placed her knife and plate back on the tray, and folded her arms primly.

Miranda smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

“That’s your second ‘Thank you’ this morning. I think you’re still drunk, Miranda.”

Miranda gave her a half-meant glare. “I will not be teased.”

Andy moved even closer, grinning like an idiot, and said, “I will not be denied.”

Miranda quickly realized that she would never deny Andrea Sachs anything.

“I’ll call Roy,” Andy said, holding the tray. “He must be waiting for you to call him.” She then gestured to a dark green door. “Go take a shower, or a bath. Everything’s there in the bathroom, and your things are in the closet. Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

Andy loved the way Miranda smiled through her eyes. “Old habits die hard?”

The brunette tittered and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’ll have to find out, then.” Miranda said, rubbing her chin. “Thank you, Andrea.”

Andy swooned upon hearing Miranda’s pronunciation of her name. It sounded like it rolled off the lips of an angel. She then nodded as she carried the tray back to the dining room, and proceeded washing the dishes before calling Roy.

  
Miranda looked around the bathroom, practically running as she entered it when she realized that there was no robe in sight. The bathroom was passable, although Miranda personally believed that every female should have a bathroom big enough to be a real room by itself, and there wasn’t much space in Andrea’s. She then turned on the shower. There was really no point in taking a long bath if she didn’t plan to stay the rest of the day anyway, and she needed to really think about everything that just happened. Andrea would stay now, but what about months later? Would she wake up and see her by her side?

A bottle of a vanilla-scented body wash caught her eye. She picked it up, flipped the cap open, and lathered it all over her body, wondering if it was the same body wash that left Andrea’s skin with a whiff of vanilla. She wondered if the brunette used it everyday. It would be marvelous to see those skillful, nimble, young hands lather the liquid into her body and—Miranda found that she was breathing a little too quickly, and a familiar need was trying to reassert itself. She then resolved that she would stay in the bathroom for a few minutes longer than she did, as the hot, steaming water brought her back to her senses more quickly.

Andy stayed in the kitchen, vowing to give Miranda her privacy until she came out. If they would talk, good. If they wouldn’t, it would be fine by her and she would take it like an adult. Her cellphone then beeped, interrupting her thoughts. Roy texted to say that he would be there in a fifteen to twenty minutes, and that he was really sorry for bothering her except that he couldn’t refuse because it was Miranda. Andy shook her head and texted her thanks. 

Eighteen minutes later, while Roy was on his way, Miranda came out of Andrea Sachs’ bedroom, dressed as she would be on an ordinary day. She walked around, and finally saw Andrea’s figure, with a tall, cool glass of water and a newspaper nearby. Miranda was filled with a desire to see that figure reading a newspaper everyday. Hell, Andrea was raising every possible emotion she could experience in her. How could one size 6 assistant make her want so much?

“Hi.” Andrea said, laying her newspaper. “I was reading the New York Times.”

Miranda looked for any sign of the Mirror and found none. “You don’t read your own paper?”

“No.” Andrea drawled out. “I prefer to look at my final drafts a few days later.” She then grinned sheepishly. “I find it a little silly, you know, reading your own work. So… there.” She then checked her watch. “Anyway, Roy called to say he will be here in two minutes.”

“Fine.”

“And that Emily left him ten missed calls already.”

Miranda pressed her palm to her forehead as Andrea chuckled indulgently. “That girl will never be satisfied unless I’m a foot away from her. She’s earning herself a nervous breakdown and at this point, I'm not sure how much of it has anything to do with me anymore.”

“You know, you should really let her off the hook sometimes.”

“Andrea,” She warned, and the girl looked at her apologetically. “Some other time.”

Andy smiled and shrugged. She knew, eight months after last seeing Miranda, that what she felt didn’t have anything to do with friendship or closure. It was a world away from employer-employee related feelings. She tried to forget Miranda, she really did, but realized that she didn’t want to. So this whole… thing was more of a realization that she was sure about this more than anything else she’d ever done in her entire life. Damn, it felt so good.

Roy appeared in front of Andy’s door a few seconds later, and without knowing it, she was already walking Miranda to her door, anticipating whatever she had to say.

“Andrea,” Miranda said, regarding her briefly. “I was wondering if…”

Andy expected Miranda to finish her sentence, but knew she didn’t need to.

“I won’t tell, I promise.” Andy said, meaning every word.

If Miranda wanted her to picky swear or cross her heart, she would. She won’t do anything to hurt Miranda or her children. It would be a delightful secret to keep, anyway. Doug and Lily won’t know, and Nate certainly won’t want to find out, so she had a memory of Miranda all to herself. A fantastic, out of this world hot, and alcohol-propelled memory.

Andy was surprised, though, when Miranda laughed a little and looked at her amusedly. The editor shook her head slightly, enjoying the young woman’s innocence.

“Not that, you silly girl.” Miranda said, amusement lacing her voice. How could Andrea think she would give this up? Even if what happened didn’t really happen, she would have gone out of her way to make sure it did. It was only a matter of time.

She stepped closer, until her mouth was hovering over Andrea’s ear, and whispered, “Andrea, darling, I was wondering if you could help me remember last night’s events.”

The last word rolled off Miranda’s lips, and Andy’s heart thumped with excitement. _She said ‘darling’_ , Andy thought, her mind running at a hundred miles per hour. _She called me darling._ All her doubts vanished with just one sentence. She grinned slightly and titled her head to regard Miranda.

“I’ll see you later then,” Andy said, and pressed her lips to Miranda’s.

The kiss was languid and long and seemed as though it would take forever. Andy ended up pressing Miranda on her front door. The kiss became more urgent, Miranda’s hands were on Andy’s hair, and Andy was now trying to remember how pop Miranda’s blouse buttons.

Outside, Roy cautiously honked the horn.

Miranda realized what was going on and stilled Andy’s hand while moving her head away from her, causing the kiss to stop abruptly. Andy and Miranda were both breathing heavily and Andy smiled in spite of herself. This was good fortune, and it was hers. A few seconds later, Miranda was back into her usual poised self, wiping the corner of Andy’s mouth with a handkerchief.

“Later,” Miranda said, amused. She then eyed Andy and chuckled slightly. “My, my. You’re more reckless than I remember, Andrea.”

Andy shrugged, trying to bite back a smile. “And you like it. Later, then.”

Miranda nodded and Andy pretended to busy herself with her cellphone. Her eyes followed Miranda as she went out of the apartment. When Miranda was about to get into her car, though, Andy ran outside. “Miranda?” Miranda turned around and looked at her. “See you soon.”

Miranda lifted her head briefly, not wanting to make things too obvious, and got into her car. When Roy preoccupied himself with the road, she rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. She made a vow to kiss her Jack Daniel's bottle later, and maybe, just maybe, Emily could bring her another box.


End file.
